


From the fire to the frying pan

by Peruna



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peruna/pseuds/Peruna
Summary: Jason is back in Gotham, in a new costume, with a stolen name, and he is ready to make his entrance with a bang. What that means is he planned for a nice firefight with some asshat drug cartel, not for the thunderclap of a portal opening. But here he is, and there is a kid being beaten to death, and he just can't not interrupt.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Original Child Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Whirly Dirly Portal Swirly

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this idea of a main character from one of my old Naruto fanfictions to come to the Gotham. This is that. Fair warning: Most of what I know about this fandom comes from fanfiction and wikis. I am fine with hearing how bad I'm doing on that front though ;)

Jason is out as the Red Hood for the first time, the new helmet slash mask fitted snugly against his face, his beaten leather jacket open and displaying the red bat symbol. He is out for the first time since coming back to Gotham with the realization that killing Joker wouldn't be enough, that he wants Bruce to kill him. Jason wants to be avenged. So he is out in a new costume, bearing the old name of the clown, looking to start this new career of his with a bang.

The shootout on the docks he got into with some pile of scum running a drug ring that targets kids is a nice start. That's what he planned for the night: A nice, loud, shitty welcome home. What he did not plan for was the literal bang like an explosion going off, that reverberates through his bones like a clap of thunder in a way that is too familiar.

Only the gruelling training he went through in these last years at the hands of whatever teachers Talia would scroubge up for him, keeps the flashbacks away. Still, Jason can feel the panic creeping up on him. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, the edges of his vision grey, and his breathing becoming staggered. Searching for anything to ground himself, with his back pressed against a shipping crate, he looks up at the sky (no ceiling, just Gothams lit up midnight sky).

It's the only reason he can see the swirling rip in reality against the grey smog and the figure materializing out of thin air. First it seems like some weird jumble of limbs, before it resolves itself into a small humanoid shape with two arms and two legs and what seems to be a sailor's vocabulary, going by the cussing.

Just as the figure starts to fall and the rip starts to close, it twists in the air and plunges one arm into nothingness. "You're coming with me, asshole!" The voice is high and raspy and full of anger and very easy to focus on. It also served to distract the goons he'd been fighting, which Jason uses to relocate to a better position.

He puts another two gangsters down quickly, which earns him back the attention of the rest. There are calls for retreat, with two unknown variables the ones in charge are getting nervous, so Jason knows he has little more time to take out whoever he can. But he is also unwilling to put his back to the portal and the new arrival. In the end, he lets the rest of the gang escape and turns back to see what is going on.

By now, the small figure has successfully leveraged its weight and momentum against whoever was on the other side of the portal to pull them through as well. Jason can just see the last of their black and red coat wave into existance before the swirling tear in the sky skrinks and snaps back into non-existance.

Which leaves the two new arrivals to fall towards the dockyard. Still in mid-air, the cloaked figure moves almost faster than Jason can follow, to punt the smaller one into the stack of containers to the side, before landing in a crouch on the concrete yard.

Having climbed a different container, Jason has a good view to see them slowly scan their surroundings, revealing a bright orange, swirled mask. A meta maybe? None that Jason had ever heard of, but the mask matches the portal, so it's not a stretch to assume they're linked. The relation to the other arrival is obviously hostile, but what are either one's motives? 

Before he can take a guess, the cloaked figure, a man, speaks up in a language that Jason doesn't recognize. Which is odd. Jason has learned his fair share of languages in the last years, speaking a handful fluidly and understanding half a dozen others. But he can't place whatever it is the guy is saying, even when the smaller figure peels itself out of the containers and replies. It sounds vaguely Japanese, definitely East-Asian, but that's all hecan tell.

By now Jason can hear distant sirens coming closer, the police finally kicking their asses into gear, now that the firefight has dulled. He doesn't have time to contemplate that, though, because below the two figures charge one another in an exchange that is hard to follow. Or, to be precise, Jason can follow the smaller one's movements just fine, but the cloaked guy? That one moves faster than a blink. It's like watching the Flash fight. He's there one moment and somewhere else in another. And he uses that to his full advantage, raining down blows on his opponent that have Jason wincing in sympathy.

The fight is so one-sided that it is hard to watch, made harder by just how small the underdog really is. They look like they're just a kid, younger than Jason was when his mother died. The lighting is bad, but the way their hair is dark and limp on one side of their head worries Jason in a way it only ever did when looking at the other street kids that got beaten up. Their replies are getting shaky as well, clearly at their strength's end. And that voice is so high, the little guy is really just a kid isn't he?

Jason sees the cloaked man turn back towards the kid after scanning their surroundings and he acts before he can fully understand it. In a heartbeat his gun is up, the trigger pulled thre times in quick succession and then an additional four times, tracking the man as he blinks around the dockyard in bursts of speed.

Jason has no idea if he managed to tag the other man, doesn't know if the guy will come back. He's out of sight now, but that doesn't mean much for someone who moves so fast. Still Jason drops to the ground to check on the kid. The sirens are close now, the police have probably entered the dockyard already and will take care of the kid once they find him, but he wants to make sure.

The sight is brutal, one arm appears to be broken, as well as a leg that is twisted in a way that might make a normal man queasy. There is a heavily bleeding headwound, which Jason had already suspected, as well as a number of slashes over the torso that bleed sluggishly through the shredded shirt. But what really catches Jason's attention is the face. The face that is terribly disfigured. With a mouth that stretches too wide and a nose that is both flat and protruding from the face in an almost snout-like fashion.

The eyes are the only thing that give the mutant any humanizing qualities. They are wide with pain and uncertainty, staring up at Jason's helmet with wariness that isn't outright fear but an expectancy of violence. It twists his stomach. Given how mutated the body before him is, he can't know if this is, or ever was, a child at all. It damn well looks like a beaten down kid though.

"You alright, kid?" Jason asks, the voice modulator giving him a rasp his normal voice doesn't have. He thought it was funny, mocking Bruce's Batman voice, but right now he's sure it'll scare the kid. It doesn't. Instead the kid licks his lips with a forked tongue (fuck, the kid is fucked up, looking like a fucking lizard, related to Killer Croc maybe?) and speaks with an out-of-breath voice, "Had worse."

And isn't that a fan-fucking-tastic relief? Shit, Jason can already see all the shit he'll get into if he helps this little mutant kid out. But what'll happen if the fucking police get him? What'll they do to some kid this fucked up? Put him into foster care? Or maybe some skeevy lab will grease their way to custody. Great fucking outlook. Fuck, he's already invested, isn't he?

"Imma get ya outta here," Jason tells the kid and curses his bleeding heart as he stoops to gather the slight body off the ground. Kid doesn't even cry out in pain, just starts breathing faster, eyes tightening around the corners.

"Where're we going?" the kid asks, slurring the r in a way non-native speakers do. The pain might also have something to do with it. And hell if Jason knows. The only doctor he'd trust with a weird case like this is Leslie Thompkins and she'd definitely tell Bruce. Not like he has any other options though. Any hospital wouldn't allow him anonymity and it'd get real complicated. Other doctors would either have questions or be fucking incompetent. Thompkins is unflappable, like Alfred, and Jason trusts her to do a good job, but it's not how he wanted to catch Bruce's attention.

"Doctor," he answers, still debating his options. He does know a good deal of field medicine, but the kid probably needs more than that. At least a sonar to look for internal bleeding after the beating he'd taken. Feeling the kid shudder in his arms, decides it. No big institutions. Kid's probably got trauma or some shit from whatever lab did this to him. And from the residential doctors the only good one he knows is Leslie Thomkins, so Leslie Thompkins it is. Fuck if Bruce finds out, Jason will be gone to ground by that time.

Running over the rooftops is always exhilirating, even if it is only for the short trip to avoid the police cordon and to his bike. Then he bundles the kid down in front of him and guns it towards the East End of Gotham, the kid looking around curiously despite the pain he's still quite obviously in. Once the bike is parked in a secluded niche and the kid in his arms again, those wary eyes are back on his helmet.

Jason looks down to see a scaled brow pull together in a frown. "Where are we?" Kid sounds a bit clearer now, less out of breath, but still raspy.

"Gotham," he replies, figuring the kid was disoriented by the whole 'traveling via portal' thing. The kid blinks a few times in apparent confusion.

"Like ... Batman?" he asks hesitantly. Jason is glad that the helmet hides whatever expression he makes in response to that, though the kid probably feels the way his hands want to clench into fists. They don't, but it's enough for the kid to tense.

"Yeah," Jason bites out, the voice modulator making it even harsher, "Like Batman."

"Ah," the kid makes, looking even more wary, and hesitates before continuing, "USA, yeah? America?" Jason nods. The kid 'ah's again and falls silent.

Soon enough, they're at Dr Thompkins's clinic and Jason awkwardly opens the door into a clean waiting room sparseley with down-trodden patients waiting their turn. Luckily, they're happy to mind their own buisness and one look by the nurse behind the reception gers them escorted into a doctor's office.

"Lay them down on the examination table, I'll be right back with some forms I'd like you to fill out." With that she's out of the room. Jason doesn't want to stay any longer than necessary, so he arranges the kid on the cot and makes to head out of the window.

He's almost got it open when a sharp intake of air makes him look over his shoulder. The kid has stood up, balsncing on one leg and steadying himself on the cot. A quick glance is thrown Jason's way, before that wary gaze is turned towards the door the nurse disappeared through. The kid hops towards the window on one foot, hissing through clenched teeth, his intent to follow Jason clear.

"The fuck kid," he snaps, turning around fully, his eyes drawn to the foot dragging awkwardly on the floor as the kid tries to hop forward again. "Lay the fuck down again."

The kid's face pulls into a grimace and he rightens himself as best as he can, looking around in a way that seems almost lost. His jaw works silently, clenching and opening, while the lips turn down into a scowl.

"I don't like this," the kid finally hisses, eyes flicking around nervously.

"I don't fucking care, sit your ass down and wait for the fucking doctor to take a look at ya!" Jason is pissed. He wants to be out of here before B gets wind of some masked, armed man entering this clinic and coming down on him like a ton of bricks. He wants to be out of here before Leslie comes though that door and somehow recognizes him.

The kid opens his mouth as if to say something, before shutting it again, uncertainly shifting his weight. Unhappy and nervous. Yeah, well, that makes two of them.

At that moment, the nurse comes back in and stops to look at the scene. Jason by the window and the kid standing uncertainly with his obviously broken limbs and bleeding wounds. It only takes her a moment to focus on her patient, dismissing Jason's obvious attempt to disappear into the night.

"Now, dear, please sit down, I don't want you to aggravate your injuries," she starts talking calmly, soothingly, slowly approaching the kid in a non-threatening manner. The kid himself continues to be wary and shoots Jason a look that is clearly bewildered, before he catches sight of the window again and carefully blanks his expression. The stare doesn't leave Jason though, demanding to see his next move. And Jason grimaces. He wants nothing more than to get this window open and make his exit. That is what he wants to do and yet, he can feel himself capitulating. Curse his bleeding heart.

"Kid, sit down. You're making me cringe just looking at ya," Jason sighs, stepping back towards the cot, where the kid reluctantly sits back down. The nurse nods approvingly before pinning Jason with a look he can't place. "I'm not taking the helmet off," he growls.

Instead of responding to that, the woman hands him a couple of papers. "Fill these out to the best of your ability. Doctor Thompkins will be with you shortly. In the mean time, I will be cleaning the wounds and providing preliminary care. Will you be staying during the exam?"

Jason shoots a look at the kid, who stays silent, before nodding, "Sure." Then he pulls a stool up to the head of the cot slash examination table and starts on the questionnaire while the nurse starts working on the stiff kid. A lot of the questions he leaves blank; name, date and place of birth, age, he doesn't know. Even gender he isn't sure of, now that he thinks about it.

"Hey kid," he looks up and sees he has the kid's attention, "you a boy or a girl?" They do the blinking thing again, surprised, before hissing, "girl." Jason shrugs and ticks the box for female. And so it goes on. Jason starts from the top and asks the questions he reads, getting increasingly annoyed looks and an alarming amount of shrugs, while the nurse does her thing.

Apparently the kid's name is Hikari, no last name, she's twelve years old with a birth place she clams up about and a date that's shrugged off. Helpful.

During the time he takes going through the questions, the nurse struggles to cut the kid out of her shirt, the material tough and resistant, but in the end the scissors win. The torso underneat is covered in bumpy scales and long cuts, most of which have already stopped bleeding. They must have been deep though, for how heavy they were bleeding earlier. Maybe the kid has enhanced healing? Who knows what kind of powers the mutations bring with them.

The nurse is good at keeping her reactions on the down-low, trying to act non-plussed, but there is some surprise and unease under the professional face. No wonder, the kid looks far too much like Killer Croc for comfort, simply because of the scales and that mouth. Still, she cleans the crusting blood off with all the care of a professional, but not disturbing the clots on the wounds themselves, clearly having changed her mind to not open them up again. Kid looks uncomfortable as hell, but thankfully keeps still. Jason just turns back to his questions, sometimes interrupted by the nurse asking after dizzyness and aches and exactly what happened.

Finally, the nurse is done and leaves the room, taking the sparsely filled forms with her. Silence descends and Jason lets it, leaning his elbow on the raised exam table while the kid slumps her shoulders with obvious exhaustion. "You can lay down," Jason remarks after a while, "I'll keep watch," he adds almost jokingly, though to his suprise the kid nods, actually laying down and closing her eyes to drift off.

Fuck, he hadn't expected that kinda trust. How's he gonna leave the kid now? Just betray that trust? He'd still kind of planned to leave the kid here with Leslie. Bruce might be an asshole that replaced Jason as soon as he could with a better model and let Jason's killer run around unpunished, but he would do good for this random kid, make sure she got into a good situation or something. But could Jason just leave the kid for Bruce now? Bruce who dicked him over? It would feel like betraying that trust. When was the last time someone trusted him, anyway?

A while later, the door to the office is opened briskly by Dr Thompkins. Jason is out of his seat and in front of the kid, before he even realizes it, his reaction justified when a strangled cry sounds out behind him. Kid jumped at the sudden entrance and moved her broken limbs. Dr Thompkins ignores the defensive reactions, instead sweeping into the room and closing the door behind her. 

"Hello," she greets shortly, "My name is Leslie Thompkins. What seems to be the problem?" 

Jason snorts lightly. No way Leslie didn't speak to the nurse before coming in, she's even carrying the forms he filled out earlier. "Bit of everything," he answers, taking a step aside, so the kid can see the doctor herself and vice versa, "Kid took a beating, got a few broken bones and some flesh wounds, mostly stopped bleeding already." 

Leslie eyes him, his hidden face and armored costume, then turns her attention to the kid. Her expression doesn't move an inch when she gets a good look at the obvious abnormalities and Jason has to give her props for that. Instead, she takes another few steps closer and around his bulk, to take a look at her patient. Obligingly he makes way, keeping close to the footend of the table. 

"Hi there," Leslie greets again, softer this time, "I'm Doctor Thompkins, do you want to tell me your name?" After a pause, the kid mumbles a reply. "Alright, Hikari," she continues softly, "I'm going to take a look at your injuries and ask you a few questions, okay?" To which the kid nods. That's how it goes, Leslie poking and prodding gently, while the kid answers her questions reluctantly. 

After the exam, Leslie sits with a sigh on the stool Jason vacated and looks at him and the kid in turn. "Normally I would stitch these cuts, but I don't think I could get through your skin with my needle. I'll try my best with the surgical tape, but you better not aggravate these wounds in the next few weeks, young lady," she adds sternly with an impressively frosty side-look directed at Jason, "As for the breaks, I'll need to take x-rays to properly set them, but they don't seem to be complicated. I'd also like to take an ultra-sound of your abdomen, since I can hardly tell if that hardness is your skin or muscular guarding." 

Jason helps the kid through the examinations, though he gets increasingly restless. They've been here for hours now, it's almost dawn and he'd planned to be back at his safehouse by now. The kid would be fine if he left her here, right? He'd have no way to make sure of that though. He could leave it to Batman to investigate the situation and take care of the kid, but Jason is here now and has seen the masked meta that beat the kid up to this extent. It's his case. 

So he sits his ass down, grits his teeth against his nerves and watches as the kid gets all plastered up. Then he picks the kid up and is out of the clinic as fast as possible without banging the plaster casts against the doorframes.


	2. Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason struggles.

The first thing he does after dumping the kid on the couch is to turn on the coffee machine. It's almost dawn and he is tired as fuck, but there are some answers he needs from the kid before he can even think of hitting the sheets. Grabbing a couple of granola bars from a cupboard he turns and regards his ... 'guest' sounds weird, but is probably the best word for it. The kid sits on the edge of the cushions, one leg in a cast and awkwardly straight, while the other is bent with the foot planted on the ground. She looks ready to bolt, broken leg or no. Doing that thing with the flicking tongue as well, that looks freaky as shit.

Without really thinking about it, Jason tosses her a granola bar, food is usually a good start when dealing with street kids, so why not? Everyone can appreciate something to chew on after a long night. Then he just blinks when the couch is enveloped in a cloud of white smoke and the kid appears on the other side of the room, crouched and tense with a knife out exactly where a chair was a second earlier.

"What the fuck?" he asks, entirely calmly, thank you very much, but honestly, what the fuck?! The smoke can be explained, no problem, he's spent enough time around fucking ninja assassin bullshit to not be surprised that much. But the teleporting? No.

To be honest, Jason might have reacted more violently to the sudden surprise if the kid didn't look so ridiculous and kind of pathetic, crouched and balanced on one leg with the other spread awkwardly to the side thanks to the cast. Sure, she had a knife out and looked more than ready to use it, but she was still the kid he'd just been carting around to a doctor and brought back to his safehouse 'cause he was fucking _worried_ and _invested_. So, sure, surprise teleportation bullshit, whatever.

The smoke around the couch dissipated and showed a chair standing perfectly straight on the couch, a granola bar on top. What the fuck indeed. Kid hadn't moved yet either, so Jason shook his head and pulled off his helmet. "Just food," he explained and unwrapped a second bar to take a demonstrative bite, "Relax." For a moment the kid stays where she is, watching him closely, then she switched places with the chair again. Less smoke this time, which lets Jason see the moment the chair vanishes from the couch and the kid appears. Cool, switching teleportation powers, whatever.

Kid snatches the granola bar out of the air before it can even begin to fall and rips it open with her teeth. Jason watches her pinch little pieces off the bar and popping them in her mouth while chewing through his own snack and thinking over his approach. He pushes down the reflexive questions about her abilities, that'd make her wary and it's not important right now. Gotta prioritize, there's a powered asshole out there with a grudge against the kid.

Crumbling the empty wrapper, Jason tosses it at the trash can, misses because it unravels mid-flight but whatever. "So, who's the creep with the orange mask? He gonna come after you?"

The kid flicks her tongue out and fixes him with a sharp stare, assesses him while Jaspn keeps his relaxed stance, then answers slowly, "Tobi. I don't know if he will search for me," she licks her lips and looks around the room, "He might me dis- ..." pauses, then sounds out the word slowly, "disoriented with the city. It's very unfamiliar to him."

"But not to you?" Jason asks before cursing himself as the kid clams up. For a moment he flails, wonders why the fuck he took a kid home at all. He's not cut out for this shit. Then he tells himself to man the fuck up and focus on the important shit. Namely, the asshole that beat this kid up. "Alright, so his name's Tobi. You got any idea 'bout his skillset?"

The kid stares at him, before grimacing and looking away. "I don't know any spe-ci-fic-s. He is fast, strong, can use weapons," stealing a look at Jason that slips to his bullet-proof vest and then to the gun holsters, she amends, "blade weapons." Then the kid shrugs and looks away again.

"What about that portal? That was him, right?"

The kid gives a tired sigh and then spills. All of it. Without further prompting, she tells him about chakra -magic apparently- and how everybody on their world -what the fuck- had the potential for it but that the Tobi guy had special hereditary eyeballs that gave him the ability to slip between two dimensions -what the _fuck_ \- which he used mostly to become intangible or teleport around -sure, why the fuck not- but she's not sure if he could do it now since she messed with the technique while fighting him which led to ripping a hole into an entirely _different_ dimension, which is how they ended up here.

"Maybe he can just go back with his _kamui_ , I don't know," the kid says, her speech becoming more fluent but also more heavily accented as she goes on, "Or maybe he needs me to reconstruct the disruption that made the portal. I do not know. Maybe he will search for me just to kill me because I messed with his plans."

"You messed with his plans?" Jason prompts taking a swig of his coffee, feeling more and more tired. Inter-dimensional travel and ninja magic. Sure, he's seen his fair share or weird shit as Robin and he's been fucking resurrected from the dead himself, but this is giving him a headache.

Kid rubs her neck and tries to hide a sharp-toothed grin. At least she seems to be getting more comfortable the more she talks. "Yeah. He was messing with a friend of mine and, you know, he had that whole plan to hypnotize the whole world, so it's not like he's a good guy."

"Okay, so a megalomaniac with magic that'll come for you or not," Jason sums up and downs the rest of his coffee.

She shrugs. "Like I said, he is probably disoriented. He can't speak English."

"You're sure about that?"

A scoff. "There is only one language in the Elemental Nations. I doubt he knows a language that doesn't even exist there."

Jason rubs his forehead wearily. "And how do you know English, then?"

She pauses, staring at him for a moment, her expression shut down as she weighs her next words. "I'm not originally from the Elemental Nations." So what? Why is that so significant? Jason doesn't know anything about her world or the continents or countries or whatever. Wait.

"Don't tell me you traveled dimensions twice." Her deliberate silence is answer enough. What the fuck is this kid? "You're twelve and you travelled dimensions twice."

"Weeell," the kid draws out and there is something hesitant but also gleefull in her expression, "I was _born_ in the Elemental Nations... _this_ time. _Before_ that however..."

Jason contemplates his empty mug and thinks that he needs something stronger than coffee. At least the kid is having fun, if the twitching mouth is anything to go by. Brat.

* * *

As distracting as the kid with her reincarmation, dimension-travelling, magic ninja bullshit is -he believes her story, but it's still bullshit- Jason had a plan when he came back to Gotham. Take control of Crime Alley, get Batman's attention, get vengeance. So, he beats up street-level dealers, gets names, leaves messages, find suppliers, gets more names, unravels the whole fucking operation from the seams while keeping an eye and an ear open for megalomaniacal magic martial masters in orange masks.

He tells the kid his name is Richard Folkson, which is the name of the previous tenant that ended up in front of Red Hood's barrel after beating up the working girls in his employ, and suffers through the endless terrible puns the kid insists on making. He tells her that his "cape name", as she calls it, is Red Hood, which she takes as permission to call him Hoodie Guy.

Honestly, Jason is a bit surprised by the complete one-eighty her attitude has gone through. At the clinic she was shy and kinda clingy, yet since he brought her to the flat she is obtrusive and downright pestering at times. But more often than not, he can see a careful set of her body and an analytical touch to her gaze that makes him think she's gauging his reaction. Not that he really knows what to do with that either, so he humors her where he can and takes an aggressive walk whenever the rage flares and his control on it gets tenuous.

Jason sets up other safehouses, one or two he tells the kid about, just in case, but most are for when he doesn't want to bring trouble back to her, or for the incriminating evidence, or the one with the freezer where he keeps the duffel bag. When he gets the first gang under control he shoots the leader in the head, takes his phone and whipes it of blood and data, then goes home and presents it to the kid who's been whining that all his books are boring. Her over-the-top whooping and cheering is celebration enough for the event.

Later, when he's grumbling about having to update his pocket computer in order to hack into the harbour master's archives, the kid asks him to teach her. Jason doesn't know all that much about hacking, just enough to do his job, but nevertheless he arranges for a small laptop with a sim card and a number of programs and sits down with her for a day to show her the ropes. Then he goes out and adds to his freezer collection.

It's nice, in a way, to not always be the Hood, to be able to go home and be Jason for a while, or Rich, as the kid calls him. To even have a place he could call home, as empty as that word still rings. He doesn't want to bring his night activities into that, so after the hacking incident, Jason makes sure not to mention what he does when he goes out and he makes sure that he doesn't come into the flat masked. And if that means that he doesn't come home at all and instead crashes in one of his safehouses when he's too exhausted to move or too injured to make the journey then that's fine. Kid's self-sufficient since the casts came off and enough of a menace that he doesn't need to worry. Meanwhile he's got a criminal empire to expand.

He _is_ more than a little thrown off when he walks in the front door after a good week of absence to find not the kid but a teenage guy on the couch fiddling with the guitar the kid had unearthed from who-knows-where. He has the guy by his throat and is shoving a gun against his temple before he can even think about it. His heart is racing against his ribs and for once it's grey creeping into his vision instead of green.

Who is this man? Could he be Tobi? Did he come for Hikari? This has to be some sort of psych play, sitting there on her spot with her guitar, but what did he do to her?!

"Where is she," Jason manages to growl past the tightness of his throat, only for the guy to _laugh at him!_ "WHERE IS SHE!" he yells, shaking him by the throat and only grudginly letting up enough for the piece of shit to answer.

"Aww, Hoodie Guy," the guy croaks with a grin and Jason feels like the rug's been pulled from under him, "You _do_ care."

There is only a single breath, a feeling of vertigo, before the pit rage slams shut over his eyes and he presses the gun into the guy's temple hard enough to twist his head and his finger's on the trigger, so close, all he want is to kill the guy, there is nothing more in the world that he wants at this moment and he is _so close, he can do it right now-_

With a puff of smoke, Jason feels his grip on the man's throat tighten until his fist closes around the metal leg of a lamp that usually stands in the corner of the room. He lets go, struggeling to draw breath, and turns to that same corner. There's the guy, finally looking worried, taking Jason's threat seriously. Ninja magic, so it has to be Tobi. Only there is a second puff of smoke and then Jason's gun is pointed at Hikari. Hikari, his kid, hale and healthy in her fucked up lizard kind of way. Hikari, who's slowly reaching for that weapons pouch she always has strapped on her leg.

"Richard," she says softly in that hoarse voice of hers.

It's a trick, flashes through his mind and Jason pulls the trigger. There is a shriek, a pained cry, her voice distorted like he hasn't heard before and something pulls tight in his chest watching the kid crouch low and cradle her bleeding hand to her chest. Blood drip drip dripping onto the laminate. It's still the kid. It's still the kid. The kid is still the kid. The illusion didn't break. He just shot his kid. He-

He needs to get out of here. His head hurts and the green is pulsing painfully against his eyes and it hurts and he doesn't want it and he just _shot his kid_ and he can't be here, so Jason runs, leaving the crying kid behind him as fast as he can.

* * *

It's a bad day. A bad day in a row of bad days in a whole fucking bad month and Jason's exhausted and angry and unable to _stop_. The itch under his skin drives him mad. No sleep without nightmare and no pillows thrown to wake him up. No taste when he eats and a parched throat that doesn't want to be soothed by water. His freezer is full of heads. All of East End fears his name. The blood on his hands is green and Jason. Can't. Take it. Anymore.

Batman found him last night, intercepted Red Hood's patrol. He tried to talk, get Jason to spill something important, because that's all Jason is. An enemy that's fought with word and with fucking fists. And Jason shot him, right in his armored chest. He shot Batman. Three times. Enough to stagger him, for Red Hood to make his exit with a sneering quip.

At least this time there was no little imposter running around after him. No perfect little replacement to swoop in and flaunt the costume that _belongs to Jason_. Oh, Jason knows what he would do if he got his hands on the little shit. He can feel it in his hands when he balls them into fists around empty air. There is a need to close them around the little shit's wrist and _break it make him feel what Jason felt what it means to wear that uniform when it's Jason's!_

Without thinking, Jason is hunched in front of his computer, trawling the news, looking for a little birdie that's fled the nest. There! Seen with his team- _With his team?! The Titans are_ Jason's _team! How_ dare _they just_ replace _him like Bruce did?! How dare he take my place!_ His fists clench around open air and there is that need for air to be flesh, for that flesh to be dark with bruises, for that little whimper of someone that acts tough but can't maintain it.

Mere hours later, Jason is on his way to San Francisco. Opening and closing his fist as he sits in the hold of a cargo plane piloted by his very own goons. Wild fantasies of bloody violence play in front of his eyes, daydreams playing out over and over as his body refuses him any rest until that worm is writhing with pain like Jason was at the end. He wants to play at Robin? He can get the full experience.

* * *

Never has he been afraid like this. Tim has been working with Bruce for years now and he's seen so much, but this is worse, so much worse than anything that's ever happened. Tim's going to die. Tim doesn't want to die, desperately doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die even if he forced Bruce into making him Robin, even if he is an imposter who doesn't deserve his place. Tim doesn't want it to end here. It can't be over, please!

Stumbling through the familiar corridors with those heavy steps echoing down the hall is the most terrifying thing Tim has ever done. He can't breathe right, his chest's not working as it should -broken ribs, at least three, more likely- and he has to lean on the wall to make any progress.

His team is nowhere to be found, god, Tim hopes they're alright, that he is the only target of the towering man in the Robin costume. He's- he can't be Jason, Jason's dead, Tim would never have taken Robin if Jason wasn't dead, if Batman didn't need a Robin and Tim's _sorry_ that he had to, but he's not sorry that he did, because Gotham needs Batman and Batman needs a Robin and Tim doesn't want to die, he really, really doesn't and he _hurts_ but he has to keep on going, get some sort of signal out. His equipment is trashed, the phone lines dead, but there has to be a communicator lying around somewhere. The closest would be-

His grip on the wall slips and Tim stumbles forward, but he manages to catch himself even though his side is killing him, where he, where the other Robin shot him while Tim was still too stunned to properly dodge. He really does look like Jason. A more adult, muscular, _looming_ Jason Todd as Robin. Except for that streak of white hair it's exactly him. Tim doesn't want it to be true, he doesn't want for Jason to want him dead, it's, it's- He gasps and pushes forward. Communicator. Survive.

The door opens under Tim's shaking hand and he hurries through, letting it close behind him. Futile, the other Robin -not Jason, he can't be- got into the tower and somehow took out his team before Tim even caught wind of it, one door will not keep him away. But it does break line of sight, keeps Tim from being shot for just a little longer, maybe enough time to scrounge up _something_.

Tim's never thought of the doors of the Teen Titan tower to sound particularly ominous sounding, but right now it is the worst possible sound he can imagine. "Aww, does the little birdie not want to play?" Coos the voice of the other man, pure malice dripping from every word. "And here I heard you were so much better as a Robin. Huh, replacement? Got nothing to say?"

Taking a shallow breath, Tim gathers the courage to face his doom. Standing framed in the doorway is the towering man in Jason's Robin uniform, gun held by his side and the free hand clenched in a fist that opens and closes again. The man's teeth are clenched and his grin is more of a grimace, showing way too many teeth, the white lenses of the domino tinged with an acid green glow.

"Let's see how you hold up," the false cheer lowers into a menacing growl, the gun gets holstered but Tim has the sinking feeling that it won't help him much. The next moment the man in on him, throwing fists and kicks with brutal fervor and Tim tries, he draws energy he didn't know he still had, dodges back, uses the displays to deny the other Robin easy marks, throws his last smoke pellet in an attempt to distract, but in the end he inevitably loses.

Crumpled on the floor from a leg sweep, Tim rolls over to avoid a kick into the ribs and gets it in the back instead. "Not so great now, are you?" the man snarls, and Tim wants to argue that he never claimed to be all that great, but the man didn't listen to him earlier, so there is no point. Rolling onto his front, Tim tries to drag himself away, knowing it pointless but unwilling to give up.

"What's that, replacement?" A boot presses on the small of his back. "Giving up?" His head's yanked back by his hair, exposing his throat. "I managed to crawl away with twice as many broken bones." Cold metal comes to rest under his adams apple. "But if you don't want to play anymore let's say we cut this short." Oh god, he doesn't want to die, please, _please, anyone_ -

"Stop," a voice calls out and it is too good to be true. The other Robin growls but tries to hide it in a chuckle. It sounds like a rockslide. "And why would I do that," comes the harsh whisper right against Tim's ear and the blade pushes against his skin-

"Stop! Richard! He's just a kid!" The voice screams, closer now, it sounds horrified. The man stills, a hairesbreath away from cutting Tim's throat and Tim dares not to breathe. "Please stop!" voice begs and the man shifts, lifting his head to look at the newcomer. Next thing he knows, Tim is released, his head falling against he floor with a crack while the man steps back. "Richard!" the voice scolds, it's hoarse, almost like a stage whisper, and close now. Tim turns his head to see the newcomer standing between him and the man, Richard.

"That's not my name," the man growls, but it's not sadistically menacing anymore, just ... angry.

"What?"

"Richard. That's not my name." Oh no, Tim thinks and closes his eyes.

"Okay, fine, Hoodie Guy then-"

"My name is Jason!" the man snaps and Tim's heart sinks. Jason, _the_ Jason, wanted him dead for wearing his costume and title. And, if he is Jason, then he's right to be mad. Tim took Robin from him and it means so much to him, of course he would be furious over somebody stealing it. Taking a shuddering breath, Tim opens his eyes and rolls over so that he can face the music properly.

The newcomer standing over him is far shorter than the looming presence of Jason. Scaled legs, huh, that's unusual. He can't really see the rest of them from this angle.

"Jason ... Todd, then?" they ask, throwing a look down at Tim before surveying Jason's uniform, "Bruce Wayne's second son?"

Jason growls and clenches his fists, but nods.

"Ah," the newcomer eloquently sums up and then dismisses the reveal, "Jason, you can't kill a kid, no matter how mad you are."

"He's not a kid, you're a kid," Jason grinds out, but he sounds unconvinced by his own argument.

The newcomer snorts, but continues seriously. "You were about to kill a child and for what? Taking your place when you disappeared?"

"I died!" Jason yells, taking an aggressive step forward and forcing the newcomer to look up at his thunderous expression. "I died and they didn't even mourn me! Just replaced me with the next best rich kid!"

"Even so," the newcomer hisses furiously, "That's no reason to _kill a child_ that did _nothing_ to you!"

"He replaced me!"

"He did _nothing! Batman_ made him Robin, he's Just A _Child_!" 

Jason growls but backs off again. Tim can see him run a hand over his face and mutter a quiet _fuck_ before all his vision is taken up by a freaky lizard-like face and it's all he can do not to recoil. "Hey there," they adress him, "Do you have any way to contact someone? Your team is all layed out upstairs, they're fine, but you need medical help." Light grey eyes sweep over him, catalogue his injuries before coming back to his face in time to see Tim's shake of the head. "Jason," they turn to the man still rubbing his face and cursing under his breath, "Do you have Bruce Wayne's number?"

"Fuck you," he spits out before demanding their phone. He punches a number in and then the lizard-like person puts it on speaker. He can hear Bruce pick up on the other and Tim bites back the relieved sob. He doesn't even register when Jason and his partner leave, too focused on Bruces soothing voice coming from the phone left by his head.

* * *

"I'm not safe to be around."

"I don't mind."

"I mean it, kid, I- I shot you"

"I got better. Also, you owe me a new phone."

"You're a menace."

"That's _Rich_ coming from you."

Jason groans at the pun, but some tension in his shoulders eases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, second chapter, yay! I'm not suuper happy with Tim's pov but I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't enjoy writing it, so there's that. Hope you still like the rest of the chapter. 
> 
> Also, that last scene was heavily inspired by "here we go again" by envysparkler who did it much better than me, so go check that out. ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963575 )
> 
> Anyway, Angst comes easy to me, but I sincerely attempt to make some fluff here and there.


End file.
